


Any Life But Your Own

by CathyFowl



Series: Thedosian Works In Progress [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crumbly Fourth Wall, Genre Savvy, Modern Girl in Thedas, Out of sequence writing, Spoilers, Stream of Consciousness, Turned into an elf, self-indulgent disregard of how magic works
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2018-10-29 01:30:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10843683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CathyFowl/pseuds/CathyFowl
Summary: Self-indulgent fic about MGiT getting stuck as elven Inquisitor and dealing with the BS that is the Inquisition.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help myself. Sorry, not sorry.

I sat by the war table, half-listening to the advisors arguing about whether to contact the Mages or the Templars. Again. My thoughts were far away though as I rubbed distractedly at the pointy tip of my ear. Solas thought it was a nervous tick and admonished me a couple of times already to _'please stop'_ before I fondled my own ears raw and bloody.

But it was still the weirdest part of all of this mess. I didn't mind Mythal's vallaslin as much, it _was_ only the minimalist, _'only over the cheeks'_ design. I would've given Lavellan the tip of my hat for her taste. Except everything else, beyond the ears and the face tattoos, was the same as my ‘ _normal_ ’ body.

"What do you think, Herald?" Cassandra's question filtered through my trailing thoughts.

"Wha...?" I asked. Very eloquent, as always. I could be silver-tongued when I really tried. I just rarely tried when it was only the five of us, conferring at the war table.

"Whom should we ask for help to close the Breach?" Josephine was so kind to repeat, as Cassandra was making a face, that meant she was too close to losing her patience to deal with my careless attitude.

I hummed noncommittally and went back to tracing the edge of my ear. It was so weird. To have it be so long and sharp-tipped. And my hearing was even better than before. It was freaky. It didn't actually bother me, it was just... strange. It was hard to get used to. Especially with my long hair always coming loose from its messy braid and brushing against the tip. I shivered just at the thought of it.

"Lady Lavellan," Josie said, trying so desperately to sound polite and not rushing. She was a saint. To be fair, anyone who could deal with the nobles without major bloodshed had to be a saint. "We need to make preparations for whichever group we decide to approach so..."

Oh, she was still talking to me. I stood abruptly.

"I'm sorry. I'm not feeling quite well. I'd like to retire to my quarters. I'll try to sleep on it and give you a definite answer at tomorrow's meeting," I said, only wobbling a little from the sudden movement. Headrush. It played to my excuse at least. "If it is all right with you, of course."

"Lady Herald," Cullen looked at me with barely hidden worry. "Should I send for a healer to..."

"No, no. I think, I just need a good night’s sleep," I said, gently. Cullen, my darling Commander, eat your heart out, you're too sweet. Everyone thought Cole was the precious cinnamon roll. Well, (at least this) Cullen was too.

**_My baby sweet as can be, he gives me toothaches just from kissing me._ **

I flinched a bit at the memory of the song. I missed music. Of all the things. Instead of my Mum, or Gran or Gramps, or even our dog, Shaba; I missed music. I felt pathetic.

I gave a short nod, avoiding Leliana's too sharp eyes, and after bidding them good night, I left.

 

Outside the Chantry building, I took a deep breath. Oh, God... I mean _Maker_... it felt good to breathe in the cold air and the scent of snow. I loved winter and I adored snow, and having it in such abundance around me all the time... Haven became my favourite place. If not for all the snow to calm me and give me a base-level of calm contentment, I would've probably gone mad by now. Or had a nervous breakdown or something.

So far I was fine...-ish.

While recharging myself with the sharp, clean scent of perpetually fresh snow, I debated whether I should chance a trip to the Tavern. It was still the best place for edible food and I could use a drink. Well, Varric called it a lemonade, with how little actual rum I let Flissa put in it. But I liked my drinks easy on the alcohol.

Okay, so basically I drank the Fereldan version of a Bacardi Breezer. I say Fereldan and not Thedosian, because I'm pretty sure they have frizzy stuff in Orlais. I didn't mind the lack of soda though. I never drank coke or the Breezer for the bubbles. I liked the taste. And Flissa had this bottle of citrus syrup I couldn't even identify except when I mixed it with some rum and lots of cold water it came out nearly identical to the real thing.

Varric teased me relentlessly for it though. For the fact that it was such a light drink (with my measure of rum being almost like vermouth to extra dry martini), and for not drinking more than three glasses of it on any given night. (Actually, I usually stuck to just one.) Some things don’t change no matter how far one ends up from home. My drinking habits will always be the subject of teasing.

So, I headed for the Tavern to grab dinner and, if the dwarf was around, perhaps a drink. Instead of illustrious Master Tethras, however, it was Solas occupying the corner table. I sighed.

**_No light, no light, in those bright blue eyes…_ **

Shit. I really _was_ tired if I was reminded of Florence and The Machine when I saw Solas. His eyes weren't even "bright blue", more of a greyish stormy blue. Much more vivid than in-game. Of course.

I say "of course", not because this was real and the game had been a rendered animation. I say "of course" because, that thing, in Trespasser, in the Crossroads? That thing, where everything is sharper and more colourful if you're an elf? That was true even here.

My eyesight became great, since I arrived here. But not just sharper and "yay, I don't need glasses anymore!"-sharp. No, it was "OMG, I had no idea this many colours existed!"-sharp.

Crazy, strange, disorienting. _Still_ disorienting sometimes. Like now when I stared at Solas and he stared back with that "Fascinating..." look of his. I might've called him "Old Wolf" and "That Egg" under my breath a couple of times. He might've overheard me once or twice. He might've been way _too_ fascinated by it.

I couldn't help it. I was still a bit in shock back then. And giggly. Way too giggly compared to a normal Dalish elf. And I was a terrible shot. I should've known that I had magic. And not waste anyone's time with that bow. But I had learned some archery in high school, and I dropped by for two classes of kendo in university. While magic simply doesn't exist on Earth as it does on Thedas.

I should've known though, that if it was possible for me to become the Herald of Andraste, I might as well expect to be a squishy mage. With my lack of fitness and abundance of stubbornness. Which translated beautifully to willpower. All the willpower in Thedas.

I walked the Fade like I walked my own vivid dreams and I actually had a Desire demon sidle up to me, receive my toothy grin of fangirlish appreciation and flee. Yes, I scared off a Desire demon with my enthusiasm. That's just _sad_.

"Stop rubbing at your ears, da'len."

Shit.

I jerked my hand away from my ear and had the decency to look ashamed. He had a point. I _was_ rubbing them raw. Mostly the left one. It used to have a small mole on the crest of the curve of the shell. Now that mole resided, a bit more raised and easy to feel out, on the very tip of the pointy shape. It was just...

I caught myself reaching up to touch it again when Solas' gaze narrowed warningly. I sighed and slumped down in the chair opposite him. He was reading an ancient leather-bound monstrosity of a book and drinking not-tea. No, he really didn't like tea. But he didn't actually hate it either. It was like me and alcohol. Well, no. Me and my favourite alcoholic beverage more like. Or me and coffee.

I like the taste but didn't like the effect. That's why I used to drink this half-decaf-latte concoction that was a couple of teaspoons of half-decaf instant coffee dissolved in a huge mug of hot milk. It wasn't coffee with milk, but milk with a dash of coffee. Or so I liked to joke. Now, I just missed the caramelly taste of the stuff. I missed a lot of small things from my world.

Anyway, turned out, Solas was the same with tea. Well, he _did_ hate black tea. Too strong and bitter, duh. But he liked the taste of other teas just fine and when I found him one that was totally caffeine-free, he started drinking it with gusto.   _All.  The.  Time_.  It would've been funny, except it made me miss my coffee more. And it made him more fascinated by me.

I know, all Solasmancers are screaming at me by now, why can't I just take my gift horse and shut up. But one: Trespasser, (and I really, REALLY liked my left hand;) and two: he was only interested because I was an elf.

It was bad enough to be easily dismissed or thought a servant, when people didn't pay attention. Or being almost assaulted a couple of times. (I was glad that I still had my reflex and immaculate aim for kicking groins, although I haven't used that particular skill since eighth grade...) But having Solas' _affection_ ’s only cause be that I was as close to Elvhen as the present day elves got...

It just left me sad. He wouldn't give me the light of day if I was in my normal human body.

As it was, I had become his pet project. My magic was mostly shit, although I was learning to control and fine-tune it really quickly. But since he took me under his wings, he took all the credit for my improvements as my "hahren". Yeah... pompous ass. Stupid egg. Blighted Wolf!

"Stop frowning," Solas said, frowning himself. "Your face will freeze like that." I was half-convinced, that he knew that I was thinking unflattering things about him when I frowned like that.

"Ir abelas, hahren," I said dutifully. I was just about to add some bratty remark when Flissa flitted around my right and placed a bowl of hot stew and a huge slice of bread in front of me. I forgot about all my grievances at the sight and smell. Flissa's stew was heavenly. It was probably nug, or druffalo. It tasted something half-way beef and pork and it was the best stew I've ever eaten, and I was basically existing on it here.

"Thank you, Flissa!" I said, taking the spoon from her hand before she could place it beside my bowl, and I was already digging in before I finished speaking. "You are truly a Maker-send!"

She blushed and giggled in that cute, flustered way she sometimes did in the game, and mumbled some humble thanks before flitting away again. Solas glared at me as I devoured the bowl of food.

It had been my joke on him that I spoke of the Maker to the Andrastians of Haven. It took him a while to figure out that I most often did it to confuse and annoy him. Now he was just pissed by it all the time. It wasn't like I wouldn't have gone to him instantly if I had any other vallaslin than Mythal's, to get it removed. Even this was a bit much. Except it looked good. And I was kinda fond of Flemythal. In all her manipulative glory.

"Was there any decision made at the meeting?" He asked after he saw that I had evaded imminent starvation and had started to savor my food.

"Nah," I waved a hand, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the book he had been reading. "They all look to me, as always, and I'm still not sure. I'll sleep on it and decide by tomorrow's meeting."

There were sketches of plants in the book. Could it be that botanical tome I wanted to get my hands on, since I realized that I could _read_ Common? So he had it all this time! That's why I couldn't find it in the Chantry library.

"That's the Botanical Compendium by I-something Arancia, isn't it?" I said, lacing the accusation thick in my tone. "I've been looking for that."

Solas let his surprise show for a split second before his mask of indifference/superiority was back in place.

"Yes, it is," he said smoothly, not offering any explanation on why he was in sole possession of it. I huffed and finished my dinner by cleaning my bowl with the bread.

After I swallowed the last bite, I stood.

"Well, it was a pleasure to have your company, as always, hahren," I said, gave my little nod of goodbye, and took my empty bowl and spoon back to Flissa to exchange them for a really stiff version of my "lemonade". I downed the drink in two swallows, and bid good night to the Tavern as a whole.

I was too tired and too pissed off to be able to keep it together. I needed to sleep.

 

***

 

But, of course, wasn't that my biggest problem? The utter inability to sleep.

I had always been a fussy sleeper. I needed darkness and I needed silence. I would've never thought that Haven, with its isolation, heavy snowfalls and general lack of artificial lighting would end up being _too_ quiet.

I spent two heroic hours tossing and turning in my bed, before giving up and heading out onto the pier overlooking the frozen lake, with my blanket in tow.

I missed my pillow. I had this perfect pillow at home that was just the right thickness and toughness. I took it almost everywhere with me. I could sleep practically anywhere if I had that pillow. Maybe it wasn't the silence or the darkness, but my missing pillow that didn't let me sleep. I was wearing thin. My nerves were fraying away from lack of proper rest. And I missed the Fade. Of all things... My priorities and perceptions were so screwed up lately.

I sighed, looked around to make sure I was alone, and started singing. I had started with tavern songs that I could've picked up in Haven from Maryden. But as the days passed and my little midnight concerts remained unobserved, I had transitioned to my favourites from home. Florence and The Machine, Mika, Hozier, Sia, Imagine Dragons. I would’ve sung even more if not for not knowing more of the lyrics by heart.

I’ve always sung along with my favourite songs, but I've also had this talent of singing along with new songs too, just by listening to the melody very carefully and predicting (I guess?) the words. Anyway, it sounded like I knew all the lyrics. I didn't. I barely knew the lyrics of my very favourites.

"How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot in the Caribbean... impoverished and something... something... grows up to be a hero and a scholar?" I rapped. I was that low. I sang and rapped Hamilton, even though I could only recall less than half of the lyrics.

I sighed.

"It must be nice, it must be ni~ice, to have Fen'harel on your side..." I chuckled. It wasn't. Or he wasn't _really_ on my side. Well, he was. For now. Give it a broken orb and two years and he'll be cutting my arm off...

I stood fast enough that I swooned a bit, but still, I started walking immediately, even as I swayed. I marched past the soldiers' tents, the cottage of Master Taigen, past the logging stand and out into the fields as far as I possibly could before hitting the sheer rockface. Luckily, it was much farther than you could get in-game.

And then, when I was as far from Haven as I could get, I screamed. As loud and as hard as I could. I roared and screamed like I haven't since I was in third grade and I had been a wild child. I screamed out all my frustration, all my desperation and all my grief over losing my family, my world and being stuck in a place where I had two choices. Trying to survive or try to save everybody and perish.

It was impossible! Just so fucking impossible.

I missed keeping a diary.

I fell quiet at that thought. I could keep a diary! I could totally, safely keep a diary. (Well, as anything written in code could ever be safe from Leliana.) But yeah, even if I had been writing my diary in English for years, I could totally write in my mother tongue.

I laughed. Slightly hysterically.

English was Common. Every other language was like it had been in-game. Solas was not amused with my atrocious and weirdly peppered knowledge of Elvhen. I haven't met Bull yet, but I was already looking forward to creeping him out with my rudimentary Qunlat. Or joke with Dorian about the lovely curses of Tevene.

But so far nobody I met spoke anything even remotely like Hungarian. To be fair, it was a language not tightly related to anything. I used to fantasize about Elvhen or Qunlat being Hungarian in my self-insert fanfic ideas.

Yeah, right... as if. But at least Tevene _was_ a lot like Latin. If not completely. At least I found a book written in Ancient Tevene and was able to figure out a lot of it. Thank you, weird high school curriculum.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. My eyes hurt for being up too late. My back hurt for being up too long, and my feet didn't hurt only because, apparently, elven feet were made for walking. Barefoot. Even in snow.

I trailed back to Haven, back to my room in the cottage the Herald wakes up in after stopping the Breach. And I tore my fancy pillow apart and played with the stuffing until it was as close to the right thickness and toughness as it was going to get. And then, I finally slept.

 


	2. Chapter 2

I woke early, with my hair full of feathers. I groaned and tried to comb out most of it before I made an appearance at the Tavern for my milk and fresh buns for breakfast.

"Blackbird!" Varric greeted me with way too much cheer for the early hour. Wasn't he supposed to be a late riser? "Are those _feathers_ in your hair?" He chuckled.

Yes, be amused by my utter inability to have a good pillow and a decent night's sleep. I loved Varric, don't be fooled. I loved his stories as much as I loved Solas' tales of the Fade and ancient Arlathan. Except Varric was actually good company _without_ his stories too.

" _Why you wanna fly, blackbird. You ain't ever gonna fly..._ " I sang in greeting to him, as I dragged myself over to Flissa. That woman was a serious miracle. The genki-girl of Thedas. With a dash of moe, where Sera was genki with heaps of Tsundere.

Stop that brain. Think Dragon Age. Don't think modern Earth. You'll just hurt yourself.

Varric looked at me in that worried way he sometimes got, when I said or did weird stuff. I wasn't perfectly stable mentally, and he knew it. Solas and Leliana too, but I thought I had most of the others fooled. Good for them. Good for them all...

"Flissa, we might need a big mug of your strongest tea too. The Herald still seems to have one leg in the Fade," Varric said in that joking tone of his, and I sent a grateful smile at him. He was my rock. This Child of Stone, who was born on the surface.

"Maker bless you, Varric," I sighed as I sat down beside him with my small plate of fresh buns and a huge mug of milk tea. He just chuckled. The first few time I said benedictions to him, he got all flustered. Especially because of hearing it from a Dalish elf. Who was also rumoured to be the Herald of Andraste. He got used to it though, after a while. I think he could even tell the difference between when I was saying that stuff to piss of Solas, and when I really meant it.

"So, any news on which group of Know-it-alls are we going to suck up to for help?" He asked.

Well... that was an interesting phrasing. Very accurate too. ...oh shit. I forgot to really think on it. And the advisors won't let me off this time. We really needed to make a move.

"We'll decide at today's meeting," I said before shoving a heavily buttered bun into my mouth. I hated the watery oatmeal they made here. I had to fight really hard for the milk and bun privileges. I prevailed. Solas had called me a foolish, spoiled child. I had laughed in his face and took my daily liter of druffalo milk. It was close enough to cow's milk in taste, and my stomach was happy with it, and I was content to find as many of the little pieces of home as I could.

At least none of my allergies were acting up. I could be suffocating from all the pollen that was readily flying through the Hinterlands air. I mean that's way too much greenery for me. Bugs and pollen and wild animals. But as an elf, I was fine ...-ish.

"Blackbird, you still here?" Varric waved his hand in front of my face.

"Nope. Sorry," I said tiredly. "I need to think some things through before the meeting. Remind me to ask for some needle and thread from Josie. And a notebook too. And ink and a pen." I listed off the stuff I needed for fixing up my pillow and to start keeping a diary.

"Sure thing," Varric said patting my shoulder and shaking his head when my gaze clouded again in deep thought.

I had to choose between the Templars and Mages. It was a nightmare with my foreknowledge, and with the worldstate of Anora on the throne alone and Alistair still with the Grey Wardens. I was derailed by the thought of never being able to meet Loghain, before reminding myself that he was probably not as nice a person here, as the version I had of him in my head, influenced by all the great fanfics about him.

Then I was derailed by the thought of meeting Alistair and actually having him over at Skyhold for a while. I might've drooled. Finally I remembered why it was a truly hard choice to make. And blessed my presence of mind to choose the "Templars, join us like Cullen did" dialogue in Val Royeaux, and address it straight at Barris.

I couldn't, with any clear conscience go and rescue him (side with the Templars,) when that meant fighting against and killing Alistair's mum. I just couldn't do that. But with Barris' hesitance at Val Royeaux... Maybe, just maybe, I'd be able to sway him and most of his men and the lieutenants to leave Therinfal Redoubt before they're given red lyrium, or are slaughtered by the Red Templars.

I was generally promage, but Thedas was a mess either way, I had to find the small personal reasons for my actions or I would just devolve into trying (and probably failing) to save everybody.

I sighed raggedly and with a nod, my decision was made.

"You know, 'birdie, sometimes it looks like whole empires rise and fall in your head, when you're thinking," Varric said gently beside me. I smiled at him sadly.

"Sometimes they do," I said and rose. My breakfast had been consumed and my mug was empty. It was time to get to saving the fucking world.

 

***

 

"An Envy Demon?!?"

Okay, Cassandra, I know it sounds impossible, please don't shout in an enclosed place though. I removed my hands from my ears when she caught herself and reigned herself in.

"Yes, I believe the Lord Seeker had contact with an Envy demon," I reiterated.

"Then we must move quickly," Cullen said and he was already moving a marker over Therinfal Redoubt on the map.

"No."

"No?" Leliana said, incredulous.

"No, I believe, we should, at least, meet with the mages in Redcliffe and see what First Enchanter Fiona has to offer," I said calmly. Inside I was seething. I was shit at this. I should've got my team and see Fiona and the weirdness of the time-magicked rift before mentioning the Envy demon. I just hoped I didn't fuck up completely.

"Indeed, the mages may be better equipped to help us close the Breach in a timely fashion," Josephine said.

Josie, I love you, and I'd kiss you right now if you weren't standing on the other side of the war table!

In the end, after _much_ more bickering, it was decided that Cassandra, Solas, Varric and I would indeed go and meet the mages in Redcliffe. In the meanwhile, to my urging, Leliana and Cullen would send word to Barris about our welcoming any Templars who want to join the Inquisition. Also ‘not to drink the red stuff’.

Cullen looked at me funny at that addition, while Leliana's eyes narrowed in that "I'm gonna find out all about this, and then you'll be in trouble"-way they sometimes did when I did or said weird stuff that wasn't complete nonsense.

"We're leaving at dawn tomorrow!" Cassandra declared and the meeting was adjourned.

I caught Josephine before she could completely retreat to her office and get buried under her paperwork, and asked her about the sewing supplies and the writing utensils.

"Of course, Lady Lavellan. It is nothing," she answered my heartfelt begging for the stuff, and if maybe it was possible to get it all today. "I'll send them over to your room before lunch."

"Thank you _so_ much, Josie! You're an angel!" I gushed. She blushed and mumbled an " _A what?_ " but got the gist of my gratitude. I was so going to buy her something nice when we next visited Val Royeaux. Or make sure she'll have hot water for the rest of her stay with the Inquisition. Or something. Definitely.

 

***

 

I spent the rest of the morning practicing my magic. After a brief lunch of more milk and bread and a wrinkled apple, I returned to my room to find two small travel packets already waiting. One was the sewing kit and the other a _very_ nice, portable/travel-ready pen and bottle of ink, and a finely-made, leather-bound notebook.

I set to writing instantly. I wrote down everything that happened that day. _Then_ I wrote notes on what happened since I woke up in the dungeons of the Chantry with the freaking Anchor on my hand. I would elaborate later.

Next order of business was fixing my pillow. I missed synthetic stuffing and zippers. At least this elven body wasn't prone to feather allergies either. I even petted a few cats in the Hinterlands and was fine. The pillow turned out fine as well, although my needlework was still terrible.

I could've just asked for a servant to help me fix it, but I didn't want some poor elf girl waste her time on my pillow, knowing that I might change my mind and tear it open again to adjust the stuffing. This way, it was my own work I would ruin. Possibly repeatedly.

I spent the afternoon alternately packing and writing in my journal. Or diary. Whichever was the right word for the place where I put down my thoughts and worries so my head didn't explode.

It was weird writing in Hungarian. Especially after weeks of not hearing it or not thinking it at all.

Solas found me with a pile of excess feathers from my pillow, that I was packing into a small bag to bring with so I could adjust the pillow on the go. I was going to make that pillow perfect before we got to Skyhold. (Even if there was a bigger chance of it burning in the dragon-fire, than coming with us.)

I had also filled more than half of the notebook already, and had to switch to a much smaller handwriting than my normal one. I’d still need to ask for a new notebook soon.

" _What_ are you doing?" Solas asked as he took in my feathered state. They were hard to catch. And liked my hair. A lot.

"Packing. You're welcome to help," I answered without looking up.

I heard him move closer, but I didn't expect him to actually help with the feathers. When his fingers carded through my loose hair for the offending runaways, I froze before turning to him very slowly. He was really close bent slightly to pick at my hair. If I straightened, I could easily kiss him. He did have really nice and kissable lips.

I wondered if he tasted like elfroot. Like forests and spring and green, so green. Like his leather coat-vest… _What was I thinking!?!!!_

He licked his lips, became aware that it made the situation worse, and cleared his throat as he quickly straightened.

"You've missed you afternoon lesson," he said. How could he sound so calm?! I knew for a fact that his heart was beating two hundred miles per hour, like mine, from the vein throbbing under his jaw. Throbbing... my center was throbbing from all the pent up... everything. His pulse was practically fluttering. Fucking hypocrite. Fucking Egg!!! Fucking fuck! Stop thinking "fuck"!

I jerked my gaze away from him, and tried to busy myself with the feathers again.

"I was busy packing," I said as lightly as I could manage. Which was an overly cheery high-pitch sound. Great...

"What is this?" he asked from behind me. When did he move? Stupid silent elf!

"What is what?" I asked and turned. He was looking at my still open, unfinished journal. Oh, all _hell_ to the no!

"A language project. And kind of private, if you would be so kind," I tried and managed to sound utterly disappointed in his manners. He retreated from my journal.

"May I ask what language? I haven't seen anything like it before." _In all my journeys through the Fade_ , I added in my mind and barely stifled a grin.

"It's Exnay. A sort of secret code we had as kids in my clan. To exchange notes without the Keeper any wiser," I lied flawlessly. It might as well have been piglatin. It should’ve made as much sense to Solas. "I'm just playing with it, if I can build on it. It calms my mind," I said. At least that part was true. Writing out all the mess from inside my head onto paper always helped.

I thought of Clan Lavellan then. Their First _was_ actually at the Conclave. Together with her own small team of three hunters. I think it was two rogues and one warrior. The rogues a bowman and a dagger wielder, respectively. I found out from Leliana. I feigned enough amnesia to cover for that. We didn't have too much contact with Clan Lavellan anyway.

And luckily I remembered who to send for what mission. If I took Lavellan’s place, I was damned (or voided or blighted) if I did not protect her clan in her stead.

Solas hovered. I must've zoned out again. He was less tolerant than Varric. Although he was still more patient than Cassandra. With Cassandra around, I had to be on full alert all the time. It was exhausting. Maybe with my diary it would get better.

**_It gets better._ **

Fucking modern Earth, be gone from my thoughts! I have real life people to save! Who used to be video game characters... _Le sigh_.

"What do you want?" I asked finally, as I finished up stuffing the excess feathers away and having gotten really annoyed by Solas' hovering. I was too keyed to his presence. Even with my wandering mind, my body was constantly aware of his. Not in small part because his magic resonated with the Anchor. Of course. How did no mage Inquisitor ever figure that out?

"To make sure you are well prepared with your spellwork before you meet the rebel mages," he said in his "hahren"-voice. He had that. A Hahren-voice for when he wanted to make people (mostly me,) feel like disobedient children. He almost sounded his age when he used that voice.

 _Get off my Fade!!_ I imagined him saying and a small laugh bubbled forth, escaping my lips.

"It is not a joke, da'len," he tried, and failed, to admonish me. "Your magic is unreliable at best and dangerous at worst. Unless keeping control over it becomes second nature to you, you can endanger not just yourself but your companions as well."

We both knew that was mostly Druffalo-dung. When shit went south and any of our little adventuring group got in trouble, it was my magic reacting on instinct that raised super-barriers and set the demons on fire so hot, that they burned to smithereens in a matter of seconds.

And while I refused to drink lyrium potions (because: _don't drink weird shit!_ ), I was still the one, whose mana lasted the longest. Like I said, stubbornness translated to willpower and mana was 5 points to every point of willpower above 10. Or so it was calculated in-game. It worked kind of similar here, so far as I had experienced.

"Fine," I said though, instead of starting another argument with him. The last one ended with him losing eyebrows, and me feeling groggy for a couple of days, because he tried to drain all my mana. He said I should’ve blacked out and stayed down for half a day at least, and grudgingly agreed that, perhaps, I did have enough mana to flounce it around and waste it by using it inefficiently.

After my grogginess wore off and I could think clearly again I apologized for his eyebrows (which he managed to regrow in record time. He totally was a hair-wizard) and admitted that, even if I could get around with my inefficient use of mana, I should learn better control, because who knew (spoiler: _me,_ ) what the future might bring.

I turned to Solas, opening one of my hands to summon and hold a small ball of flame, and the other to hold a small ball of ice. Then I called the Fade to play, and had the two balls of elements exchange hands by travelling through the air, meeting in the middle and moving on without canceling each other out.

"Satisfied?" I asked after the balls settled in the opposite palms and I had dispelled them with a flick of my wrists.

"That was very well done," he said, somehow making the compliment into a question.

"I can't sleep. I practiced," I said with a shrug and turned back to packing. I wanted to get some recruiting done while we were away. Get Blackwall/Rainier... _Thom_. Get Thom before visiting with the mages. Then head for the Storm Coast and get me a hunk of Qunari.

I needed to get laid… It was a bad sign, when you started to think of good people as potential sex objects. To be fair, I wasn't going to lose my hand before I got to “ride the Bull”. I had promised that to myself.

"You can't sleep?" Solas' voice sounded weird. "You haven't been sleeping? At all?"

"You know I have. Some. Just not much. Or well," I sighed, then motioned to the fixed up pillow. "Hence my crafting project."

He was still looking at me strangely.

"What? Did a demon approach you in the Fade pretending to me?" I was teasing, but the way he tensed, I instantly knew that I was right. "No way! That's not fair! Here I have Desire demons running from me on sight in the Fade, and you've been... that's NOT fair," I whined. I was sleeping so little these days though, that I barely dreamed.

Solas made a choked off sound, and before I knew it, he was back to his cold, non-committal mask and disapproving look. Then he excused himself and fled, _FLED!_ from my room.

I had the decency to wait until his steps retreated, and counted to twenty even after that, before I fell on my bed laughing hysterically. Naughty hahren!


	3. Chapter 3

So, time to elaborate on the previous happenings.

 

I should've started at the beginning, right? Well, I can't..., mostly because, (and I really hope this is the case,) we haven't been to Adamant Fortress yet, so the Nightmare demon still has my memories.

I have zero clues about how I got here. And my first memory isn't running from Fearlings in the Fade. No, the first thing _I_ remember is Cassandra shouting at me and Leliana trying to stop her from throttling me.

I don't care if it was just their version of 'good cop, bad cop', I was suitably terrified by the time Cassandra tried to take me to the rift. I say "tried", coz I really didn't want to go. I had woken up in what was either a lucid dream gone horribly wrong, or something even more sinister. My hand hurt, my mind shied away from thinking rationally, and the Hands of the Divine ganging up on me did nothing to calm my nerves.

I had accepted the reality of being stuck as the future-Inquisitor, on some level, pretty quickly. What I couldn't swallow as easily, was the part where I had to fight demons, and would lose my left arm in three(ish)-years-time. Also, I didn't know about the magic yet, so I was terrified as well, thinking myself defenseless.

Of course, nearly dying from the single Shade Cassandra ever let close enough for it to hurt me, did not fill the Seeker with confidence in my abilities. Practically vibrating at the sight of Solas, punching him, lying through my teeth, and listening to his bullshitting with a grimace, oddly enough, didn't help either.

Maybe it was when I flipped out over the Pride demon decking Cassandra, and let loose magic I didn't know I had in me, what broke the ice. Using magic for the first time felt like a dam was broken, and I learned really fast after that. But what it all boiled down to was that I was more likely to cast spells, and cast them well, if one of my companions were in danger, instead of for protecting or saving myself.

That little display had Cassandra shored up, and Solas became forever suspicious. I didn't blame him, and after our romp around the Hinterlands, he grudgingly acknowledged me as his "da'len". On that front, it had to be the ancient elven artefacts that helped the most. (And no, they don’t weaken the Veil. A mage can actually tell that sort of thing. Or, at least, an elven mage can.)

Varric was friendly from the very start, of course. He was like the favourite uncle you could rely on to have your back if you pissed off your parents, or were trying to get away with some shit. When I told him stories I had heard about the "Kirkwall Crew" (aka my favourite fanfictions,) he either stared horrified, or almost fell off his chair laughing.

“Broody and Blondie as lovers? Where in the Void have you heard such a thing?” He had been laughing so hard, he had to hold onto the edge of the table so he wouldn’t fall off his chair. “It’s more ridiculous than the friendfictions Rivaini came up with.”

It became a sort of tradition between us, that we'd meet up in the Tavern for dinner and he would teach me card games while I told him about the "rumours" I heard about Hawke and their friends.

 

***

 

Val Royeaux hadn't been a _complete_ fuck up...

I managed to keep to the script, right up until the Templars showed up with the Lord Seeker in the lead. I didn't do anything as heroic as throwing myself in front of the punch, but while the Chantry lady (Revered Mother?) was just as annoying sounding as she had been in-game, she reminded me of my great-aunt.

And I wouldn't let anyone hit my great-aunt, let alone just stand by and watch it happen.

So I was moving before I made the conscious decision and caught the templar's arm by the wrist and twisted it the wrong way, almost breaking it.

 _He tried to smite me_. It didn't work. Instead of being knocked down and unconscious, I punched him in the face and broke his nose.

It went downhill from then. The people freaked and ran away, the Lord Seeker postured and spoke his lines... I caught his gaze once, and that look he gave me had made me think and scream internally: _Envy demon, Envy demon. Already!_

I gave the line about welcoming any deserting Templars to the Inquisition, straight to Barris, and he did look like he might consider it. I hoped. I didn't want to lose him.

And then the Templars finally sodded off, and I could listen to the Revered Mother giving me a lecture, while Solas fixed my hand. (I seriously bruised my knuckles, but luckily I remembered _not_ to tuck away my thumb.)

Then we were off to hunt for agents. The Orlesian food-lady was really nice. Even nicer than in-game, if possible. We found the Red Jenny note and got the invite to Madame de Fer's party. And we met Grand Enchanter Fiona.

Disclamer here: I don't like Fiona. I've only known her from the games and while I know a little bit of her history in the books, to me she just looks like somebody who took a bigger bite than she could chew.

"Perhaps you should ask for help from your own kind..." she had said, and I had the satisfaction to tell her twice as truthfully as any mage-Herald could, "We have nothing in common."

And that was Val Royeaux.

 

***

 

I could only meet Sera separately, because I had to weasel out from under Cassandra's watchful gaze to go to the meeting place. I wasn't afraid to go alone, but I knew Varric would've come if I asked him. And Solas had sort of _let_ me go. He probably thought, I had just needed some alone-time after the "trauma" of getting Smited (Smote? Smitten?). He checked me over while healing my hand, and was suitably nonplussed that I was mostly fine, just royally pissed off.

He would probably panic a bit, when he realized that I went off chasing Red Jennies, instead of just having a stroll around the gardens... Hehe...

The grand-douche was as pompous of an ass, as the game suggested. Sera was just as confusing. But since I already knew, what she meant and what she really wanted, I could understand her fine and talk with her easily.

She said I glowed super bright, which I took as a sign, that maybe elves could've told that I wasn't the right Herald, if they had a comparison. And she called me “elfy”.

"Well, in all my elfiness, the Creators can go fuck themselves. Except the Dread Wolf, his ass is mine!"

That cracked her up. And then the breechless guards came, and we had some funtimes messing with them. She didn't even mind me putting barriers on her. Not too much anyway.

When I returned to the tavern we had been staying at, (sans Sera, because she actually needed to get a few things sorted before she left her post as Red Jenny for indefinitely. Which made me think, that she would turn out much more responsible than she came off in-game,) Solas had been waiting for me, sitting by a table near the stairs.

"Where have you been, _Herald_?" Ouch. Since my freak out after my first kill at the crossroads, he only called me "Herald", when he wanted to make me feel guilty. And he was using his 'hahren' voice, full power.

"I went for a walk..." I said tentatively.

"And was it a very exciting walk? Considering you are covered in blood," he asked quietly. He was the kind of man, who could admonish you in that quiet, almost soft tone and you knew that you'd rather he was shouting, because quiet meant trouble. Real trouble.

I looked down at myself and swore. "Fenedhis." But that made me think of _him_ , of course, since I read the Project Elvhen article about that swearword, and now I was grinning and maybe even blushing, and he was going to skin me alive. Oh, and I was covered in blood. I usually burned my enemies to crisp, but Sera liked to aim at arteries, and blood had spurted... yuck, by the way.

Maybe I should experiment with my barriers and develop one that would keep me clean. And dry; I could use that type against rain too, probably...

Solas was standing right in front of me. Shit, I zoned out again, not the right time, brain. Focus!

He reached out and even as I tried my damnest not to flinch, he brushed his thumb over Mythal's marks on my cheekbones. His fingers came away bloody.

"It's not mine!" I chirped. I was too afraid, and excited by his proximity. I could practically feel my blood turning into pure adrenalin. "None of it is mine."

"I can see that," he said quietly. He was still a barely held back ball of anger. Over what exactly he was angry about, I wasn't sure. He studied my face for a long time. "I take it you had suffered no ill effects from your earlier encounter with the Templars then?" he asked finally.

"Not really," I said. I tried for nonchalance, but it came out as a hoarse whisper. "Just some dizziness, like when you mana-drained me. But none of the grogginess. And I actually felt better after setting people on fire." Oops. I shouldn't've said that last part.

Solas' eyes flashed and I did flinch then. He immediately dropped his hand and took a step back from me.

"Go to sleep, da’len. We'll have a long day tomorrow," he said, not looking at me anymore. Apparently, I was dismissed.

 

***

 

Lady Vive's party was awesome. The food was super delicious and the drinks were only occasionally poisoned. And I _revelled_.

I didn't get to wear a gown, I was stuck with my painstakingly cleaned battle gear, but I was an elf, at an Orlesian party, plus the newest source of gossip and intrigue, so I was fine.

Cassandra and co. came with me of course. Varric was already thronged by fans, and he was starting his curse of his publishers early. Solas disappeared after a minute. I was sure that he melted in with the elven servants somehow, much easier to do in his hobo outfit. And while Cassandra tried really hard to keep close to me, she _was_ Nevarran royalty, and the Hero of Orlais, so she was ambushed by at least half a dozen admirers and I took the chance to flee.

It was fun to eat "proper" food, mingle and chat. I told crazy stories that everyone loved, and was having a fine time waiting for Madame de Fer to show, until Duke Douchbag turned up.

He said his insults. I didn't give a shit. He drew a dagger on me. It should've been before the dagger was completely drawn that Vivienne showed up. But she hadn't. And I was having too nice a time to let that miserable bastard ruin it. So I did Vive's part, and froze him on the spot.

"I hope Madame de Fer will forgive me for the addition of such a tacky ice sculpture to her collection," I said airily and turned towards the food table to hunt down another plate with that cheese dip, they did so well.

"Indeed, it is extremely tacky," I froze at the sound of Vivienne's voice nearing. "But I must forgive you, since you had such subpar material to work with. It's a miracle, it didn't come out tackier."

With her deep voice and elegant speech, she sounded so much like the Witch of the Waste, I had to fight down a fangirlish giggle. Instead, I managed to turn and present a half-decent curtsy, while still shaking a bit from swallowed down laughter.

"Madame de Fer, I'm grateful for your invitation, and I am truly sorry to have thanked you with such a display, when you've orchestrated such a wonderful party," I managed to say with only a little bit of quaking in my voice. She could take that as the sign of a healthy dose of fear.

"Indeed, my dear," she said graciously. "I am happy that you enjoyed the party so far, even in the face of such display of lack of manners, for which I apologize in turn. But unfortunately I did not invite you just for pleasure. Maybe if we could retreat to speak privately?"

And we were off, poor Duke-douche left by the grand staircase in his iceclad glory. He'd melt... eventually. And mostly intact...

Vivienne was everything the game made her out to be. She was a woman, who knew what she wanted, and wasn't afraid to go and get it. All wrapped up in the Orlesian Game. I had fun talking to her, and she seemed to be entertained by my strange lack of barbarism. Josephine would probably get some surreptitious congratulatory notes about how she managed to tame the wild Dalish mageling and hammer some manners into her.

I'll probably have poor Josie apologizing to me about that. Or hide it all together. Whichever seemed less offensive to her at the time. That woman was a saint, I tell you.

After agreeing to Vivienne's offer to join the Inquisition, I collected my little group of misfits and we left. On the walk back to the tavern I kept thinking about how diverse this little base-group actually was…

We start out with Cassandra, who's a human, but female. Then we get Varric, a dwarf and a recurring character, AND a famous author/successful businessman. Ending with Solas, an elf, a mage, AND an ancient Elvhen almost-god. And if you had a Vashoth Inquisitor that meant, that your party had all the races of Thedas represented in it from the very start.

I found it kind of awesome.

Solas was watching me, again. He was disconcerted by how fast I found him when I wanted to leave. If I kept surprising him with applying the little things I knew and by being generally weird, I wasn't going to be able to get him off my back anytime soon.

I was still conflicted about him. At least I wasn't angry anymore. Not as much... I punched him back at the first rift. Cassandra almost killed me for it, but it all worked out. After the satisfaction of sending him to the ground, I could lie my way out of it.

And it _was_ satisfying. I mean, I’ve never played mean Inkys before, but I watched the Youtube videos. If you punch poor Dorian, he goes down. If you punch Solas, on the other hand, not so much. He probably expects it by then... So catching him off guard and smacking that smug expression that he wears after the first rift is closed, right off his face... _that_ was really satisfying.

I don't think _he_ believed my story about mistaking him for a flat-ear that crossed me once upon a time. Not that I care what he believed. I was sure that he needed me for a long while yet. And after all, he didn't kill the Inquisitor in Trespasser, even if they hated each other. It was just " _be glad you have a castle_ " and he was gone.

**_Fenharel enansal_ **

Stupid Egg.

Oh, drinking game! Take a drink every time the egg is stupid or I think he's stupid or I grumble about him. You should be drunk in less than a chapter.

 

***

 

Krem's appearance was the highlight of my day after we got back from Val Royeaux and had reported all the shit that went down.

He was standing around the main doors to the Chantry, trying to talk to people, only to be dismissed by everybody. I grinned a bit when I saw that Lelianna had at least three of her agents watching the Lieutenant.

I wrangled my features into a mask of bored annoyance, and strode out the doors.

"Excuse me, I've got a message for the Inquisition...," he trailed off and sighed when I strode right past him. Damn, he was tall. I always forgot to expect people to be taller than me. I used to be average height. Here, I was an average tiny elf.

I stopped and strode back to him. He straightened to stand at attention, when I stepped right in front of him and leaned close to glare up at him. We stared at each other for a long moment before I let my fannish grin loose.

"Cremisius Aclassi!" I said cheerily. He stiffened. "Lieutenant of the Bull's Chargers." That made him relax again. I didn't know, how he could ever imagine that slavers would send a Dalish elf after him... Pfff...

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Don't call me 'ma'am'," I said with a pout.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry, ma'am," he winced.

"I mean you're what? Early to mid-twenties?"

"Twenty-five, ma'am," he said.

"See? I'm twenty-six, and I am too young to be anyone's "ma'am"," I grinned. He finally relaxed. "Call me ‘Herald’."

His eyes widened. "Your grace..."

"Nah, just messing with you," I patted him on his pauldron. "It's been a long and busy day. Probably why no one is sparing any time for a newcomer."

"Miss?"

I just smiled, and toted him along to the Singing Maiden for lunch. He reported, and we got to chat about the Iron Bull a bit. It was nice to talk to someone without all the “Herald this”, “Lady Lavellan that”. After a while, he had to leave, and I thanked him for coming by with the message personally, and told him the Inquisition would send people ASAP, which meant about a week or two with all the mess currently happening.

And that was the highlight of the day. The "lowlight" was the meeting in the afternoon that went way too long into the night. But I told you about that already.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

"Will you be the Papa Bear?" I crooned as I flopped against Blackwall's solid frame.

"My Lady!" He gasped in worry, and tried to extricate me from him, but I just clung tighter.

"Don't worry," Varric chuckled. "She's not drunk, just tired. She's like a kid about to throw a tantrum when she's sleep deprived. She doesn't bite."

"I'm not a kid! I'm 26 and a half!" I protested with the whiney voice of said over-tired child.

"So you keep saying," Varric grinned. He liked to egg me on if it wasn't him I was snuggling. He especially enjoyed Solas' discomfort. But Solas was a terrible snuggle partner. Varric was sturdier, and Blackwall... Well, you know Blackwall.

I groaned and buried my face in the soft padding he wore under his chestplate.

"My Lady, please, this is..." Blackwall said, but I cut him off.

"Fine. Pretend that I _am_ a kid. A daughter you never had or something..." My voice trailed off as such a sad expression settled on his face. Shit. I screwed up with that one.

"Blackbird!" Varric's voice sounded like what a disapproving father's should, and I huffed. I was tired, I missed my Mum, and I missed my Gran and how I could always cuddle her tiny frame if I needed. I missed my home. And Blackwall felt homey.

I wiggled a bit away from Blackwall, before turning and throwing myself on his lap, cushioning my head on his thigh. He made a choked off noise, that I disregarded as I started to sing.

_"Why you wanna fly, Blackbird? You ain't ever gonna fly..."_

"Well shit," Varric murmured. "I broke her."

"What?" Blackwall was cute when he didn't get my weirdness. I held up my left hand, and spread my fingers as I continued singing.

 _"No place big enough for holding, all the tears you're gonna cry. Coz your momma's name was 'Lonely' and your daddy's name's 'Pain',"_ I felt Blackwall's eyes on me, but I purposefully didn't look at him. I kept staring at my hand, at the Anchor, the Mark of the Herald of Andraste, and tried not to be angry. _"And they call you little 'Sorrow', coz you're never lo~ve again."_

It was a sad song, and Varric had heard me sing it once when he saw me run away to the farthest corner of Haven, and scream and shout and swear and sing myself to tears the first time. I think he was the one who made sure since then, that no one bothered me when I went off to vent.

 _"You ain't got no one to hold you~~~"_ my voice almost broke on that note. I felt tears spring to my eyes. I swallowed, hard, before finishing the song. _"You ain't got no one to care. If you'd only understand it, no~body wants you anywhere. So why you wanna fly, Blackbird? You ain't ever gonna fly..."_

There was dead silence as my voice trailed off.

Well, that was... well.

I dropped my hand to wipe at the tears that gathered in the corners of my eyes. Then I felt rough fingers gently card through my hair. I blinked up owlishly at Blackwall. He was smiling sadly.

"I already have a substitute-Papa, you know," I said and waved toward Varric. "Although, I guess, since I grew up without one... Two should make up for it." I sighed and let my head be petted, and soon drifted off to a fitful sleep to the rumbling sound of Blackwall and Varric talking about the little, lost elf-girl.

 

***

 

I was in the Fade.

It always came as a surprise how I recognized the place instantly. It wasn't like having lucid dreams at home. I didn't dream and then became aware that I was dreaming, due to some little detail or recurring theme or such. Instead, I just fell asleep, and when I started dreaming, I opened my eyes in the Fade.

It was pretty today. A spirit of Curiosity was rifling through my travelling memories, and mashing together details of places from opposite sides of the world. It was like all the best and prettiest and coolest parts of the world were mixed into one.

I sat down on a park bench from Cambridge, England to watch the waves of the Pacific Ocean play against a beach from the Mediterranean. It was calm, even tranquil, except, of course, that word had been ruined for me too since playing Dragon Age.

I caught sight of Solas beyond the edges of my dream. I chuckled. Should I join him and tease him? I knew that he couldn't find me in the Fade, for whatever reason. He couldn't see me. Did I perhaps look like my human self?

I reached up to touch the tip of my ear, but it was pointed. It might've been rounded before I thought of it... But the Fade was fragile and very sensitive. I still had to keep being mindful of not expecting to run into any demons. So my dreams remained filled by kind spirits.

I missed Cole.

I haven't even met him yet. But I missed him anyway.

" _A black wall to shield the self when the sky in rainier._ " I almost quoted that at Blackwall last night. He would've freaked out though, I'm sure. Maybe when we have our drink after Adamant... Maybe then...

I had so much knowledge I could work with, yet I was terrified of messing up and losing even more people. Important people. I mean, no, _no life_ is more precious than the other, but... But. But no one cherishes the idea of losing people they love, while saving people they don't know.

And I loved all of them. Even the Egg. Stupid Egg...

Have a drink!

I stood abruptly, and Curiosity fled when I wiped the Fade-scape clean. The beach-scene disappeared, only for an empty, white room to appear in its stead, with white walls and a low, white ceiling. I had a black marker in my hand, and soon there were half a dozen spirits of Logic and Wisdom and Memory with similar markers, and we set to write down everything I knew about Dragon Age, on the walls.

I woke with the distinct feeling that I was missing something, leaving something out. But I couldn't, for the love of the Dread Wolf, figure out what.

 

***

 

Meeting with the mages went exactly like it was supposed to. I tried really hard not to coo over Dorian's awesomeness, and not to give away any pre-knowledge about the shit that was going down.

I kept myself in check until Felix appeared at the Chantry after I closed the rift there, and Dorian had introduced himself. Felix mentioned the 'illness card' and I spoke before I thought about the consequences.

"You should try to talk to a high ranking Grey Warden. They might be able to help."

I don't know who was more surprised. Felix, for a genuinely helpful comment. Or Dorian for an elf's willingness to offer help to a 'Vint, and a mage at that. Or Blackwall, who was supposed to be a Grey Warden, but who, I knew, was not aware of the details of the joining.

Varric caught on though.

"How do _you_ know that?" He asked, and I just shrugged and grinned.

"Unfortunately, they seemed to have left Ferelden," Cassandra said. We still had the Storm Coast to comb through, but I agreed with her. Time was running out, and Felix wouldn't be able to leave his father's side until we dealt with the Venatori's hold over the rebel mages. And it might be too late by then.

I wanted to save the kid so badly. I would've even been willing to experiment with the Joining concoction, except there was definitely no way we could get some Archdemon-blood... I shook my head in frustration.

"Sorry, it was a bad idea... I just... sorry, never mind me..." I needed air. I was practically vibrating with all the anger I felt. Fate was a bitch. Especially in Thedas. This was one of the reasons why I wouldn't ever come here willingly. Thedas was a scary, dangerous place, even if you were just normal people.

Being a 'hero' was definitely worse.

I excused myself, and let Dorian continue to try and charm the seeker, while I went to the edge of the cliff near the Redcliffe Chantry, and took a couple of deep breaths as I stared out over Lake Calenhad.

"Shaped like a bunny... but only on the maps..." I mumbled to myself.

"You mean the lake?" Felix said from right behind me. I should really start paying more attention to my surroundings.

"Jesu.... dear Maker, how did you sneak up on me like that?" I had cut off a very un-Thedosian curse.

"I wanted to ask about what you said in there..." Felix seemed hesitant. In-game he looked to have made his peace with his fate, and he was only fighting for his father. That pair... But now he looked like he might be willing to try to cling to life, if there was a non-evil magicky way to do so. "What could a Grey Warden do?"

I sighed. I should've stayed quiet. Being a Grey Warden wasn't that much better than being dead. I really respected the Grey Wardens, especially after I played Origins and saw all that... well.

But I had been always really glad that Blackwall... that _Rainier_ hadn't been Joined. And I never _ever_ sent him off to that fate. Even Hawke's sibling... In my first playthrough, I had pretty easily refused to take Bethany with me to the Deep Roads. Like, "No, little sis, you stay home and take care of mum." There was no question about that. Carver was a different matter, and since I always kept Anders with me, he was saved. But still…becoming a Grey Warden wasn’t something I would wish for anybody.

I had a sinking feeling, that whoever Hawke turned out to be here, their sibling ended up as a Grey Warden. Judging from Varric's reaction anyway.

"Look," I began, turning and facing Felix, looking him in the eyes. "I trust you. So I'm going to tell you a few things, and I need you to think about them, but do not tell about them to anyone. Not your father, not even Dorian."

Felix looked a bit taken aback, but he nodded.

"I know about the secrets of the Grey Wardens. Their Joining isn't just a little pompous event. It's a ritual that gives them their abilities to sense darkspawn, and be able to kill an Archdemon. But in the meanwhile, it infects them with the taint."

I watched Felix's reactions closely. I was risking a lot by telling this to him, but he deserved to know.

"Becoming a Grey Warden is a different sort of death sentence. You get 30-ish more years to live, and spend those years fighting against darkspawn, possibly get killed by them before your new lease on life is up... But you get a chance to make a difference instead of just... well dying..." I trailed off. I really wasn't selling the idea.

"Would you..." Felix started after a long, and awkward silence fell between us.

"No," I said instantly. "But if it was up to me, I wouldn't be the Herald, I wouldn't be here, and I wouldn't even know about this stuff." I chuckled. "If it was up to me... Don't mind me, I'm angry and bitter and still trying to keep my shit together, and do everything to keep this world from falling apart."

Felix looked at me with a strange expression I couldn't place, then patted my shoulder gently.

"Thank you," he said before walking away.

I stared after him, not sure if I helped or just managed to make things more complicated.

 

***

 

Blackwall cornered me after we made camp on the way to the Storm Coast. He took the first watch and asked me to join him. When everybody else went to sleep, he motioned me over to sit by his side, and I went willingly. It wasn't a conversation for prying ears, but I couldn't cast a cone of silence, so sitting close together and speaking in low voices was the best we could do.

"So, you know about the Grey Wardens..." He cut right to the core of it.

"Yes," I said. After a long minute of silence I added. "And about Warden Constable Gordon Blackwall and his last recruit..."

I caught him by the hand, and pulled him back onto the log before he could bolt.

"’A black wall to shield the self, when the sky is rainier.’" I said gently. "I'm not angry. Not at you..."

"You knew," Blackwall... no, _Thom_ , said accusingly. I didn't blame him. "You knew from the start. And you still... why?"

"Exactly because I know," I said.

We sat in silence some more. His hand twitched, like he wanted to make a break for it after all. I tightened my fingers around his.

"Promise me you'll stay," I whispered. "We need your help. Closing the Breach is just the beginning. Somebody had made that. Somebody is taking advantage of the chaos of the Templar-Mage war, and is trying to tear Thedas apart... We need all the help we can get to fight that someone." I turned to Thom and tugged on his hand until he met my gaze. "Please, promise me."

"I promise," he choked out. He looked ashamed, and he looked overwhelmed by my confidence and trust in him.

"Thank you," I said, and brought his hand to my lips. He gasped and jerked his hand away. It was not appropriate for a lady to kiss a murderer's hand, he probably thought. Well, fuck appropriate!

I stood then, and walked away into the trees. I needed to be alone. No, what I really needed was to have someone to shout at, or a shoulder to cry on. Or somebody who could tell me with all honesty, that it would all turn out fine.

So I walked away from the camp and tried not to sob too loudly before I was out of earshot.

 

***

 

Getting to the Storm Coast was just as exciting as it had been in-game. We arrived to find the Chargers already engaged in a skirmish with the Venatori. The Fade sang around to Spellbinders, and half of my tactic involved cutting them off from it.

It was bloody and gruesome and fun.

Then there was Bull. _The_ Iron Bull.

He was _huge_.

I mean I was looking forward to meeting him and I had this image in my head that he would be the kind of big that made me feel fragile and not just short, (while all the others made me feel short. Even Varric, somehow.)

But I really couldn't've imagined just how absolutely _huge_ the qunari was.

I was so going to climb that! I might've drooled. A little. _Stop thinking of him as a sex object._ But yeah, riding the Bull. On my bucket list. (To be fair, I probably wouldn't have found him so hot if I wasn't in love with his sharp mind too.)

Perhaps too sharp a mind. He pegged my lack of surprise at his declaration of being Ben-Hassrath, and I knew that I was going to be under heavy scrutiny. _Just please don't report my weirdness to the Qun._ They might come to the conclusion that I couldn't handle this. Even though I was doing remarkably well so far... considering...

I felt a pang of regret that Sera didn't make it for the Dragon vs. Giant fight. I would've videotaped it for her if such thing was possible. Though being actually there and feeling the shake of the ground and the buzz of electricity the dragon conjured up... It was priceless. Bull loved it.

We hung back with Krem as Bull tried to get closer to the action without being made into paste. I slung a careless barrier around him, just in case. Krem commented, that he'd never seen a mage work from such a great distance.

And successfully, too. Bull did get too close, the Giant noticed him and would've flattened the qunari with a rock if not for the barrier. The dragon fled, and I sighed, cursing that there was no tactical camera view in real life to check on the remaining health of the giant.

I'd get the XP from it at least.

 

***

 

"So, you're Dalish?"

As conversation starters went, that wasn't unique, but it also never failed to piss me off.

"Ye~ah...?" I answered Bull noncommittally.

"And you were at the Conclave why?"

"Spying," I said. "You know, you are a terrible spy yourself. Or so I'd say, but you're pretty good, aren't you? Exactly by being the opposite of what everyone would expect."

"Wanna exchange pointers on spying?" Bull grinned.

"Nah, being the Herald of the Maker's Bride is kinda bigger. I'm busy enough with that," I waved a hand.

 _The. With the article, it's a joke, but now he's afraid it fits_. Fuck... I wanted and dreaded meeting Cole. He'd probably see into my mind too. Brightness of the Anchor or no.

"Hmmm... you don't seem as put upon as one might expect by being named a foreign god's Herald," Bull said, and I could practically feel his gaze gauging my reaction.

I was afraid I was going to disappoint him.

"I've got nothing to do with Andraste, true. But the Maker works in mysterious ways..." I wiggled my eyebrows and Bull chuckled. "Although considering the last bit I learned about Him..." I shook my head and tried to cling to my own beliefs instead of trying to figure out where they fit in with the Thedosian parallels. And the fucking Dread Wolf and his Veil... Stupid Egg. I hoped he had the hiccups every time I swore at him in my head.

Bull fell silent and looked remarkably serious. I changed the subject. Sort of.

"Tell me about the Qun. I heard so much about it, but never got my hands on any texts... I'm curious," I put on my 'little kid wants to learn' face. Bull just chuckled at first, but then he started explaining some basic stuff, and we never returned to the topic of a Dalish elf’s beliefs.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My muse came back with a weird dream... literally.

Why did it have to be me? Why couldn't it be Lavellan, who was _meant_ to be here? Why couldn’t it be her job to make the hard choices?

I paced the short length of the Warroom at Haven under the silent gaze of my advisors. _My_ advisors. Not Lavellan's, not the Inquisition's. Mine. And they needed answers, decisions to be made. And they needed them yesterday.

I felt like I was suffocating under the pressure.

I had thought that going recruiting the rest of the Inner Circle before I made a decision on choosing the Mages or the Templars, would be a good way to clear my head and come up with a plan after the distraction of their company.

I did love to chat with the Bull on the way back to Haven. Or play small pranks with Sera, once we got to know each other a bit better. But ultimately, they all put more pressure on me. Especially the Iron Bull. I could feel his gaze following me, trying to figure me out, analyzing me and finding all the tiny discrepancies. I already had Solas watching me closely. I really didn't need the Ben-Hassrath agent doing it too.

And then there was this stupid dream I had...

I used to dream stuff like this at home. When having a stressful task ahead of me in real life, I have dreamed of the solution and got it solved perfectly in my dream. And woke with the sense of relief and achievement. Until I remembered that all of it was just a dream and I still had to face the task, and my dream-solution wouldn’t even work in real life.

I had the same kind of dream about this choice, on our way back to Haven.

I dreamt that I wanted to duplicate myself. Since the only reason why you couldn't choose both the Mages _and_ the Templars was because the other group's leaders would get tipped off by the time you could visit them too. It should go down at the same time, otherwise, it wouldn't work. But it has to be led by the Herald, no matter what. Neither group would talk to anyone else.

So I figured out, in my dream, that I needed to duplicate myself. Except there was no spell for it in Thedas. But I knew that there _was_ a magic mirror that could do the next best thing (mostly): turn someone into me, into the Inquisitor. Without the glowing hand, true, but I figured out that someone could use the Mirror of Transformation at the Black Emporium and turn into me. To look like me to such extent, only that Mirror could achieve. It would have to be an elf, and it would have to be on a need-to-know basis, but it could work.

I wouldn't trust Sera with the task, however. She'd be too freaked out by both the Envy demon in her head or the time travel to a red lyrium future. And while I didn't so much _trust_ Solas, I had faith in his abilities. And his experience with spirits to be able to tackle the Envy demon at Therinfal Redoubt. On that route, there was only one rift and if he acted fast enough, with the extra knowledge I could give him, he could prevent even that single one from opening.

And I could deal with the dark future and a world turned red. It was a perfect plan.

It all seemed reasonable and a great solution to my need to be in two places at once. My need to save everyone. Even if not all of them deserved it. Even the Templars were trapped in the system. More willingly perhaps, but not without chains.

And now I was pacing the Warroom, with four pairs of eyes watching my every move, silent and waiting for a decision I could never make without regrets. And I just wanted to act out my dream. Was it even possible? Was it just the trick of the Fade? Was it perhaps a demon's influence?

It could've been. It very easily could've been. I felt desperate enough to, albeit very briefly, consider turning to a demon for help. But I was the Inquisitor. Or would be soon enough. I carried the Anchor and it had to be protected at all costs. Not me, not the Inquisition, but the Anchor needed to be kept safe. So, in the end, I could defeat Corypheus and close the Breach for good.

I took a shuddering breath and walked out of the Warroom without a word.

I think the advisors were getting used to it, because they mostly just grunted or huffed and only Josie called after me with a worried "Lady Lavellan?"

I wanted to seek out Solas. To run my dream by him. Even if it was nonsense. Even if it was just the influence of the Fade or a demon. But first I needed to get my shit together. I had managed to work myself into a state of such high levels of anxiety, I became non-verbal. I needed air. I was breathing so hard, the cold air burned my throat, yet I was still feeling like I was drowning on dry land.

_A panic attack?  ...of course. Just what I’ve been missing…_

My hands were starting to spark. A lovely new addition to my freakouts lately, brought on my better grip on my magic... it had started acting up when I was too upset. _Lovely._

I hid in the snow-banked corner behind the Chantry and tried to get my breathing to slow down and even out. I missed those soothing breathe-along gifs from home. I had to try counting instead. In: one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi; out: one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi. In: one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi; out: one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi.

"You okay there, Boss?" Bull's rumble scared the shit out of me. I fell, from my gently rocking crouch, onto my ass, elbow-deep in cold, wet snow.

I shook my head vigorously in answer, and tried to get up to walk away, swatting the snow off of my clothes with shaking hands. I needed to find a better hiding spot. Somewhere, where I could be alone and fall apart in peace.

"Hey, hey!" Bull caught me by the arm and I growled, _growled_ at him in response, trying to get free. "Easy, I won't hurt you," he said, not letting go. "Calm down."

"I.... cant" I choked out between too short gasps for breath. I was shaking. My voice was shaking, even on those two broken syllables. I shook my head again, as if I could shake the panic and hopelessness out, like I shook off the fresh snowflakes landing on my hair.

It took Bull a solid half hour to have me calm and able to speak again. But he did. He sat with me, in the snow, with one huge, calming hand on my back, not rubbing, not moving at all, just a reassuring weight across my shoulder blades, keeping me company, a solid presence to ground me. The fact that his one hand almost spanned the entire width of my back was a distracting enough thought that my head cleared faster than it would've if I weathered the attack alone.

Eventually, I took a deep, steady breath and leaned against the huge Qunari.

"Better?"

"Yeah."

"Wanna talk about it?"

I couldn't. I really wanted to, but I couldn’t. Bull's mind was among the best of the Inquisition. He could probably point out discrepancies in my thinking, faults in my plans or lack thereof. But I couldn't trust him. Not yet. I already trusted him with my life, but I couldn't trust him with my secrets. Not until he was still part of the Qun.

"No," I said with a resigned sigh. "But I need to talk to Solas." I stood on shaky legs. My stomach complained loudly about lack of sustenance. When have I eaten last? Damn, I was losing my grip on the everyday little things while trying to fix the big picture. "Have you seen him?"

Bull rose smoothly next to me, towering over me as only a qunari could.

"No, but I think I heard him say that he was going to stay in his cabin for the rest of the day. Wherever that is."

I had completely forgotten that Bull and his Chargers have just arrived to Haven and were still settling in.

"Thanks," I said and turned toward Solas' hut. Then paused. "And thank you for this. I’m sorry, I kept you from your boys. Please don't tell the Advisors," I said over my shoulder before walking away.

I could barely hear Bull's quiet answer of "Sure thing, Boss." I only shuddered a little at the 'boss'.

 

***

 

After my little daytime breakdown, I had all the courage I needed to just walk up to Solas' door and knock. No more hesitation, no more fucks to give. We had to get a move on. This was not the game, in the sense that things didn't stall indefinitely if you just kept from advancing the main questline.

At first, there was no answer. I waited, and waited. I knocked louder. And waited some more. It took Solas long enough to give a muffled "Come in!" that I had considered turning around and just going to the tavern and start drinking. Alcohol was a good problem-solver, right? _Right?_

"Solas, I need your advice about someth..... WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU NAKED?"

"Quiet yourself, da'len," Solas said calmly, finishing up wrapping his feet. He _was_ wearing breeches too, but he was bare-chested... and that was a lot more bare chest than I was ready for at the moment. And a lot more ribbed than expected. _Those abs... oh gods… Is this my punishment for wasting time with stupid ideas?_

I stared, memorizing each and every line, until he finally put on his tunic. Shaking my head I blinked a couple of times and looked up to meet his amused smirk.

"What?" I asked defensively, looking away and fighting off a blush.

He just chuckled, the sound reminiscence of the darker sounds of a Pride demon. _Dammit, get your act together!_

"I..." I had to clear my throat, my voice came out so husky. "I need your advice about something Fade related... well, ancient elven magic related _and_ connected to the Fade, to be exact."

"Please, have a seat," Solas motioned to the two chairs by his desk and we sat.

After a brief hesitation, I relayed to him the whole of my dream, leaving out only the parts about the quests themselves, which I knew from playing the game. I told him about my dilemma over choosing the Mages or the Templars, about my solution in the dream, about his possible involvement, and about my suspicion that the whole dream was inspired by a malevolent Spirit.

"It's a very... ingenious concept," Solas hummed, deep in thought. He didn't question the existence of the weird Eluvian/Magic Mirror. Or of the Black Emporium, although we haven't received an invitation from Xenon yet. To the best of my knowledge anyway. The Old Wily Wolf knew too much.

 _Your Ancient Elvhen is showing,_ I thought but said nothing, asking for his take on my dream instead.

"Do you think it would be worth the risk if it was possible?" I asked.

"Do I think it's possible to use magic to make someone look like someone else? Yes. It's a high level spell, but, especially with the help of a magical artefact, it's entirely possible. Do I think that I could impersonate you well enough in front of a group of Tevinter mages or the entire group that embodies the remains of the Templar order? No."

I frowned dejectedly. I don’t know what I’ve expected. For him to say “Yes, of course, let’s go!”?

"Even if it weren't for the Mark upon your hand..." Solas started. "We have met the leaders of both groups. Both of us have spoken to them. I do not believe that either of them could be easily fooled by simply changing my appearance."

"Neither of them saw the Mark!" I interjected. "It's barely noticeable when I'm wearing gloves! And we're both mages, so not even our fighting style is that different. And... and... And I really need _something_ to work! I can't just doom an entire group of people..."

"Doom?" Solas looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"You've seen the mages trapped by Magister Alexius' machinations. And... you’ve seen the Lord Seeker acting strange... He's been replaced by an Envy demon."

"What?" Solas' eyes widened in shock and he leaned forward in his chair. "How do you know this?"

"I... I..." _Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic._

But how could I not panic? I had decided to keep the truth from Solas and I wasn't ready to share my knowledge now. But it seemed like I would have to.

Maybe it would be better though... if he knew... if _somebody_ else knew the things I did. Just in case… in case something happened to me. Maybe not everything, not yet, but a part of it. A relevant part.

"I..." I couldn't tell the truth, but I could wrap the useful information in lies. "I had other dreams too... before. About the Mages and the Templars. They are both controlled by a great entity. The same entity that opened the Breach."

Solas' gaze darkened. I kept very still, watching him closely. He knew what I was talking about. He knew that I meant Corypheus. Was he worried? Worried about me finding out about his connection to the opening of the Breach? About me knowing about the orb? Or about me being controlled by Corypheus through my dreams? Was I overthinking things again?

I felt like I had a knot in my throat. It was hard to breathe past it.

"Do you trust these dreams?" Solas asked quietly.

"As far as possibilities," I said honestly, my voice rough. "I do believe that we shape our own fate. Some things are inevitable, but we should never give into fate. But yes, I believe if we don’t act, if we don’t try to get to both groups, we’ll lose one of them."

"Wise words," he nodded solemnly.

"So... do you think we should try? Is it worth the risks involved?" I asked again. "We need to move simultaneously on both fronts, keep them guessing until the last moment. And we need to keep the plan a complete secret."

"Yes..." Solas murmured, deep in thought. He held his chin in one hand, tapping a forefinger against his lips. It was distracting, but I worked myself into such a state again, that I barely dwelled on those shapely lips and what would they feel like against my skin, against my own lips… and other parts.

I was practically buzzing with nervous energy. We needed to start preparations for contacting the groups _now_. Either way. If I had to choose, I had to tell my advisors about which group to approach. If we had the means to choose both... we had to get to Xenon, in secret, and we had to prepare for approaching both groups. I was reasonably sure that we'd amassed enough influence to have the pull to do both, if only we could get around the timeline...

"All right," Solas said and stood determined.

"All right?" I shot to my feet. "You mean... All right?"

Solas chuckled.

"I mean, we'll make your dream come true."

I stared at him, a grin slowly spreading over my lips.

"That's the cheesiest thing you've ever said and I love you for it!" I said and hugged him briefly, but tightly, before storming out of his room and back towards the Chantry.

He followed with a soft smile on his face.

 

***

 

"This is insane!" Cassandra yelled.

_Inside voice, for fuck’s sake._

Solas weathered the outrage of the Seeker with dignity, while I covered my ears and waited for the end of Cassie's rant about dangerous and reckless magic-use.

"You're done?" I asked when she took a breath.

"No! You can't honestly expect up to go along with this idiotic plan!" She shouted.

"Okay, then we go and get the mages. Decision made, problem solved," I said coldly.

"Herald, we can't just abandon the Templar order!" Cullen interjected. "And I still believe that they would be more capable of helping us close the Breach."

"It doesn't matter!" My composure was all gone. "Whichever group we choose, it doesn't fucking matter. The Breach will be closed. We'll succeed. But whichever group we _don't_ choose, will get decimated and turned against us! You don’t get it! I'm trying to save people's lives!!!"

There was dead silence following my outbreak.

Solas stepped up next to me, gently grounding me with a hand on my waist. Just the briefest of touches. I had been shaking, again. I felt instantly calmer from the barely-there touch of his fingertips.

"Lady Lavellan is right," he said. "If we have the resources, if we have the chance, we should give this plan a try. I'm willing to co-operate fully. I would've expected the same from her advisors."

Great tactic, Solas. Being the voice of reason and shaming them into co-operation at the same time. I really hoped it'd work.

"We _had_ made enough connections with nobility to enlist their aid in getting the attention of the Lord Seeker..." Josephine said hesitantly.

"And we _do_ have a secret way into the Redcliffe Castle," added Leliana. "I could get my agents to infiltrate the castle."

They both looked at Cullen, who sighed heavily, in defeat.

"We had just received a raven from Kirkwall this afternoon... An invitation to the Black Emporium..."

I squeed so loud they all turned to look at me with worry.

"Don't you see?!?" I enthused. "It was meant to be! It really might just work!"

"Don't speak too early, da'len," Solas cautioned.

Cassandra looked around at each of us.

Josephine, writing a list of all the nobles she could ask for help. Leliana, drawing a map to the secret passage into Redcliffe Castle. Cullen, sorting through the fresh missives, looking for the invitation. Solas, standing tall and silent and impossible to figure out. And me, barely keeping from jumping up and down in excitement. I could do something new! I might be able to pull off the impossible.

"Fine," Cassandra sighed. "I hope you'll succeed, Herald."

I stopped fidgeting and nodded seriously.

"Thank you, Seeker Cassandra," I said. "I promise to do my part to the best of my abilities."

"Try not to die trying," she said deadpan.

I just grinned.

 


End file.
